Apocalypsis 03 - Exodus

see you guys. I thought we were going to be hanging around all night out here. These mosquitoes are brutal.” He reached down and slapped one on his leg. A second later he was waving something away from the front of his face, before he gave up and started clapping at it.
    The other guy reached over and put his hand over his brother’s arms, gently but firmly forcing them down. “Ronald, chill.”
    “Oh. Yeah.” Ronald’s arms fell to his sides and his face reanimated. “Is that you, Bryn? Wheres’ Bodo?”
    “I told you I didn’t know them,” I whispered to anyone who was listening.
    None of us said anything; we just sat in the canoe looking at them from the middle of the river. I was nervous as hell, waiting for a group of canners to come running out of the nearby trees. Maybe they’re just going to shoot us from under cover. These two guys could be decoys.
    “Who are you?” demanded Trip. He stood at the front of the boat with his chest puffed out. I really wished he would sit the heck down and not be such an easy target, but I couldn’t blow his manly cover and risk really pissing him off. I knew Trip well enough now to know that he would probably prefer a bullet, to being emasculated in front of other guys. Dope that he is.
    “We already told one of your friends. We’re Ronald and Jamal. I’m Ronald and that’s Jamal. We were send here by Sissy and Jimmy and they told us to ask for Bryn and Bodo.” Ronald ducked his head down, looking right at me. “You’re Bryn, aren’t you? You’re just like Sissy described.”
    “How’s that?” asked Yokci, making me cringe. I really wasn’t sure about hearing Sissy’s description, especially considering I’d disabled the lock on their back door - permanently.
    “Brown hair, smallish, cute … and not an indian.”
    “It’s Native American,” I corrected. It was the best I could come up with; my brain was racing trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
    “Oh, sorry. Not Native American.”
    “Why would she do that?” asked Trip, sounding angry and maybe a little bit confused like me.
    “Because. They have the waystation.”
    “What are you talking about?” I asked, tired of feeling like I was in the dark. “I have no idea what a waystation is, and Sissy and Jimmy are not friends of mine. I met them one time.”
    Ronald scratched his head. “Okay, let me start over. Jamal and I met Sissy and Jimmy at the waystation. That’s the Cracker Barrel? Up off I-95? Anyway, we told them we were looking for a safe place to, you know, start over; and they suggested we look you up. They said they had a couple other people ask and they sent them too.” Ronald looked at us for a few seconds. “Didn’t they make it?”
    We all shook our heads.
    “Oh, man. Sissy said she’d already sent like three people this way. I wonder why they didn’t come.”
    “What’d she tell you to do?” I asked, still mystified as to how they found me.
    “She said to go to the Everglades and that we needed to ask for Bryn.”
    “And you found her here. Of aaaaalll the places in the Everglades you could have gone?” asked Trip, clearly doubting this guy’s story.
    “Yeah,” said Jamal in a deeper voice. “What? You think we’re making this up?” Jamal was mad. I didn’t have to know him to see that.
    “Just seems kind of hard to believe,” said Paci.
    “Well, when you come down I-95 there’s all these signs for the Everglades and a giant shell shop with discount tickets to the Miccosukee Village … so we figured we’d give it a try, and if she wasn’t here, we’d just keep going down the highway until we found the right exit,” explained Ronald.
    “It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do,” said Jamal.
    “Other than avoid the crazies that’re out there,” said Ronald.
    “Canners,” said Yocki.
    “Yo, what?” said Ronald.
    “Canners. As in cannibals,” I clarified.
    “Oh, yeah. You got that right. Canners. Man, those loons are everywhere, you know? But we move at night, when it’s harder to see us.” Ronald smiled, his bright white teeth lighting up his face.
    “You can’t stay,” said Trip, pushing on the pole, sending our canoe a little farther away from them.
    I frowned but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what to do.
    “What? Wait a minute, man! We came all this way!” protested Ronald.
    Jamal hit him on the shoulder. “Come on. I told you this was a stupid idea. They’re racist. Let’s go.”
    “We